This past Sunday, I was ready to head off for church bright and early. My younger daughter was still asleep, so I went in to her room to give her a kiss goodbye. She stirred and very sleepily asked me, “Is today Sunday School? And Children’s Chapel?” I almost giggled that this was her first thought upon arousal from sleep. When I told her, “Yes,” she would be going to Sunday School and Children’s Chapel, she groggily replied, “It’s going to be fun.”

As I have been thinking about my child’s simple question and sense of joy about church, I had two thoughts. The first was, I am so happy to know that my child is finding joy, happiness, and fun at church. As a parent, you hope your child will find as much joy in Jesus as you do, but you learn pretty quickly that every child is an individual with their own passions and sources of joy. To see my child develop a love for church and the experiences she has there has been so thrilling. And even more importantly to me (especially as a clergy person), I am so grateful that her positive church experiences are almost totally independent of me. Other adults are guiding her faith journey. The community is raising her up in the faith. Our church family is helping her find joy in God that is all her own. That reality is one that I have deeply desired for my own children, and I am so proud that my church is a place that does the same for so many other children and families.

The second thought I had about my daughter’s early morning pronouncement was that I want adults to have that same sense of anticipatory joy about church too. Sometimes we struggle to get ourselves to church because our lives are so over-scheduled that church feels like just one more burden. Sometimes we go to church out of habit, but go through the motions without much joy or food for our souls for the week. What I long for is church to be a place that when we first awake on Sunday mornings we think of church and we think, “This is going to be fun!” We can do that at Hickory Neck because we know we will see people who have given us so much joy in our spiritual journey. We can do that at Hickory Neck because the worship, preaching, and learning will give us new insights and renewed energy and passion for God. We can do that at Hickory Neck because we know, somewhere during the morning, we will encounter God – and it’s going to be awesome!

This past Sunday at our Rector’s Forum, someone asked about how we invite people to church, how we share the Good News with others. Where we start is sharing those stories of how, when we wake up on Sundays, we think about Hickory Neck and think, “This is going to be fun.” When you tell the story of how your church brings you joy, your countenance changes, your energy shifts, and your enthusiasm is contagious. The only thing left for you to do is say, “Hey, you want to come with me next time? It’s really fun!”

One of the themes of this summer for me has been new adventures. This summer I tried aerial yoga for the first time – a practice of yoga that involves being suspended from the ceiling with silks. I also rode a bike for the first time in over 20 years. And last night, for the first time ever, I represented our church by throwing one of the first pitches at our local minor league baseball games. In each of those instances, I was nervous, skeptical, or downright scared. I know I yelped at least once in aerial yoga. When I first started riding the bike, I was so stressed out that my hands started hurting from gripping the handlebars. And as I waited to throw that first pitch, my stomach was doing flip-flops.

Those examples may not sound all that thrilling to you. I certainly did not skydive, bungee jump, or walk a tightrope. But those adventures were all experiences I normally would have declined – coming up with a hundred reasons why the adventures would be a bad idea: pulled muscles, skinned knees, or a bruised ego. But in each instance, I could see in the eyes of the people asking me to take the adventure a sense of longing, hopefulness, vulnerability. They were inviting me into adventure, and saying “no” would have meant a crushed spirit of enthusiasm. And so, against my better judgment, I said “yes.” And you know what? In every instance I had a ton of fun!

I was thinking this morning about that weighty pause when someone invites you into adventure – when you can either say “yes” or “no,” with the person left eagerly anticipating your response. I think we experience that same weighty pause with God all the time. God is constantly inviting us to take on new adventures: stepping through the church doors for the first time in a long time, hoping not to be judged or hurt; going to a church study group, unsure about how your doubts or questions may be received; serving dinner at the homeless ministry, wondering what you can possibly say to or have in common with someone who lives on the streets. If you do not have a relationship with Christ, saying “yes” can be hard. But even when you do have a relationship with Christ, responding positively to an invitation from God can be hard. Taking on new adventures with God means trusting, letting go of fear, and making yourself vulnerable.

I wonder what invitations to adventure God has been inviting you to try this week. What invitation might you say “yes” to that you have been delaying or refusing altogether? The risk is that you might pull some muscles, skin some knees, or bruise that old ego. But the payoff is that you might find meaning, purpose, and renewed relationship with God. And I suspect that you might also have a bit of fun!

This summer, our church was looking to do two things: we wanted to offer a “light” educational series that adults could enjoy and we wanted to continue our conversation about racial reconciliation. One might think those two goals do not go together. But we were not to be deterred. We settled on the option of watching movies that were about racial reconciliation. Movies are certainly fun, but the topic still wasn’t capturing the “fun” or “light” criteria. Then the idea hit us: sports movies! Sports movies allow us to be entertained, while sneaking in powerful stories of hope, challenge, and encouragement.

The model has worked even better than I suspected. Our first two movies have been 42: The Jackie Robinson Story and The Blind Side. The last two movies are Coach Carter and Invictus. We were able to feature four sports: baseball, football, basketball, and rugby. Each week we have been able to cheer on teams, laugh at comical moments, and pause with discomfort when truth broke through. Our conversations have been rich – each movie bringing up parallels in our own stories – about race, about respecting the dignity of every human being, and about our journey with faith.

I think what has made that work is each movie is based on a true story. We did not make that connection when planning the film list, but it has been a powerful surprise. Unlike a fictional film, which could be dismissed as romantic, overly simple, or unrealistic, these movies show us real people, trying to live faithful lives on and off the field. Their stories have been encouraging us to do likewise – examine how we are living faithful lives on and off the field. Ultimately, I think that is the only way we are going to make our way toward racial reconciliation: sharing our stories and listening to others’ stories. It would be easy to do otherwise; to keep our heads down and ignore what is happening in the world about us. But these stories invite us into another way of being.

The invitation of our Faith and Film series this week is for us to find ways to engage outside of the theater. Maybe you start by telling someone about this awesome movie you just saw. Or if you are feeling more confident, maybe you simply talk to a friend or coworker – either of your race or another – and start with a confession, “I watched this movie and it has made me think about [insert your thoughts here]. What is your experience with that?” Using the movie or your own story allows you to do what Jesus did all the time – engage people where they are through the power of story. I believe reconciliation starts there: one story at a time.

Last night, as a member of our Diocesan College Ministry Commission, I visited Canterbury at William & Mary. We had some time with both the students involved in the Episcopal Campus ministry and with the Campus Minister. It is a vibrant ministry, with a lot of passion and enthusiasm around service, worship, and discipleship. Canterbury is a place where they can ask questions of their faith, become leaders, serve their community, and forge deep friendships. They are doing the work began in their baptism, continued in their confirmation, and now affirmed as adults.

As I listened to the students and Campus Minister, I was flooded with a host of memories from my own experience in Campus Ministry at Duke. Although I was involved in the Wesley Fellowship, the models are quite similar. Wesley was the place where I came into my own faith, where I engaged my intellect in partnership with professors at the Divinity School, where I first discovered the power of mission trips, and ultimately, where I began to feel a sense of call to ordained ministry. Wesley created disciples – encouraging us to find a local church community, fostering a personal spirituality, developing deep Christian friendships, and exploring the implications of my faith. Most of my friends from Wesley took a year or more to volunteer or live in intentional Christian community. Today, most of the alumni I know are clergy, lay leaders, non-profit workers, social services providers, and are raising up a new generation of faithful disciples.

When I was in college, I thought Wesley was doing something revolutionary. The community certainly articulated its faith a little differently than my home churches had. But more than that, we created an intimate, trusting, challenging space that fed me and informed my life path. As I thought about that experience and the experience of the Canterbury students at Williams & Mary, campus ministry does exactly what Church does – or should do. We are forming people into faithful disciples, who want to learn and grow in their faith, who want to find ways to serve God and live out their baptismal covenant, who want to develop the deep bonds of Christian community, and who want to have some fun while they are at it!

As a pastor, I often get caught up in the programmatic and administrative work of Church. I want to create a community that offers the things necessary to produce faithful disciples. What last night reminded me of is that I need to remember to look around and enjoy what we are creating too. If you have been looking for a community that can help you find meaning and purpose, can help you grow in unexpected ways, can help you connect with others on the spiritual journey, and can embolden you to live a life full of the love of Christ, come join us at Hickory Neck. And if you are already a member, invite a friend into this rich experience. There is good news to share!

This week, Hickory Neck is hosting its 16thAnnual Fall Festival. Not having seen a Fall Festival at Hickory Neck myself, I cannot give you an endorsement from experience. But here’s what I can tell you. The Fall Festival highlights all that is good about Hickory Neck. Parishioners old and young, newcomers and old-timers, those working and those retired have all chipped in to prepare for the event together. People volunteered readily, volunteers charged forward with their assigned tasks, leaders recruited with ease, and parishioners have been baking and purging their “attic treasures.” Church members and friends have been sharing the word with their neighbors, and the grounds are slowly transforming as we prepare for the big event.

Even more impressive to me is that all the proceeds of the Festival are earmarked for Mission and Outreach. All the hard work going into this event is all for the benefit of our neighbors in need. The passion poured into this event is as strong as the passion for the ministries we serve. Just last week, I visited one of our beneficiaries, Avalon Center. Avalon is an agency working to end domestic and sexual violence by breaking the cycle of abuse through prevention, education, shelter, and support services in the Williamsburg area. Visiting Avalon and learning about their clients made me remember how easy it is to go about life when your life is not touched by violence, poverty, and suffering. We could easily close our eyes, ears, and mouths and stay willfully ignorant about our neighbors in need.

But that is not the way of Jesus. Jesus could always see and hear. Jesus always spoke for the oppressed. As we have journeyed through Luke’s gospel this year, we have heard over and over how Jesus sees us – even when we don’t speak. That is what we are trying to do when we engage in mission and outreach – we are engaging in seeing, hearing, and speaking – in acting on behalf of our neighbor.

So yes, we are going to eat awesome barbeque and Brunswick stew. We are going to ride on hayrides, bid on auction items, and shop through other’s treasures. We will laugh, play, and have fun. But what is tremendously inspiring to me is that all this hard work, all this nourishing fellowship, and all this use of our resources is rooted in walking the way of Christ. Our work leading up to Saturday, and our work on the day of the festival is all our way of saying we commit ourselves to seeing, hearing, and speaking. I hope you will join us!

This Monday our parish walked in our local Memorial Day Parade. I did a lot of cajoling to get our parishioners out among the community that day. But I must admit, that morning all I wanted to do was stay in bed. I had experienced some sleepless nights with the little one, Monday is normally my day off and walking in the parade would mean losing not just my day off but a holiday too, and it is a rare weekday that I get to have my whole family together. So despite all my haranguing about our need to evangelize, all I wanted to do was stay in bed (or at least stay in my pajamas, since little ones do not believe in sleeping in around our house).

But as soon as the crowds began to gather, I realized how good God is. While walking to the parade, we ran into one of my daughter’s friends from kindergarten. Later, we ran into the clergy and staff of our neighboring Lutheran church and preschool, who had not seen our youngest child since our preschooler graduated last spring. I found myself introducing St. Margaret’s parishioners to non-church friends. We managed to gather the largest number of parishioners to ever walk the parade. And, quite honestly, I had fun.

That’s the funny thing about evangelism. We get all nervous about what will happen. We wonder what we will say. We fret about how people will react when we talk about church. We worry it will be awkward. But Monday gave me a renewed spirit for sharing the Good News. Sharing your joy about church isn’t really all that awkward. In fact, it tends to segue into other conversations, because joy is contagious. Thanks for reminding me about my joy, St. Margaret’s! Let’s do it again soon!

Growing up as the child of a rural Methodist Minister, there was never a lack of fresh produce in our home. Now that was not because my family went to the grocery store a lot or because we grew our own vegetables, but because multiple times per week, we would find a brown bag sitting on our porch, full of produce from parishioner’s gardens or farms. Sometimes we knew who they came from, but sometimes they were entirely unmarked bags just waiting for us. And sometimes people caught us at home so we were able to thank them properly. But my favorite bags of food came from a local farmer and church member named Frank. Frank was a funny guy – always wearing his overalls, with a bandana hanging out of his back pocket. Frank had lived on farms his whole life, and he had a funny way of talking about the farm. Anytime we tried to thank him for the tomatoes, squash, or cucumbers, he would just scoff and tell us that they were some of Old Bessie’s volunteers.

Bessie was his tractor. Frank used Bessie to seed his fields, but Bessie was temperamental. The device that shot the seeds into the field did not really operate properly – it would turn off and on at will, and so Frank always tried to get Bessie into position as quickly as possible before she start spewing seeds. But invariably, Bessie would spray seeds in the barn, in the ditch on the way to the fields, along the roadside, and even by their house. Though he would curse and yell at Old Bessie, Frank never seemed to get the glitch fixed, and I guess he loved Bessie too much to trade up for a new one. Consequently, he would get “volunteer” plants all over his property. Instead of pulling them up, as they grew and produced all over his property, his youngest sons had to go around and pick them. These “volunteers” from Bessie were the producers of much of the food we ate throughout the summer and fall.

In a lot of ways, I think the sower in Jesus’ parable today is a lot like Bessie the tractor. Jesus says that the sower throws seed all over the place – on the path, on rocky ground, among thorns, and in good soil. By farming standards, the sower is pretty awful at his job. Most farmers and gardeners are quite careful about how and where they plant. For those of you not involved in our own community garden here at St. Margaret’s you may not know that they spent quite a long time planning and researching for our garden. They thought through where the best sunlight would be, how deep the bed should be, what kind of soil to put into the raised bed, and what kind of weed cover to put down. They even managed to secure some fox urine pellets to spread around the box to deter rabbits from eating all our hard work. Nowhere in the planning did our Garden Committee suggest we just take some seeds and throw them around the property and see what happens. And yet this is what the sower seems to be doing in Jesus’ parable today.

The question is why the sower sows seed in such a seemingly wasteful way. The sower must know that seeds do not get a chance to grow when they are so exposed that birds will eat them before they can germinate. The sower must know that the soil is not deep enough in the rocky areas to take good healthy root. The sower must know that thorns usually choke out plants, not letting them grow to full maturity. So why does the sower not simply save the seed for the healthiest soil?

The scarier part of that question is the next natural question. Why would Jesus also recommend that the disciples spread the Good News in such a haphazard way too? When Jesus explains the meaning of his parable, he explains that when they share the Good News, there are going to be times when their sharing feels like fruitless sowing. The devil is going to come in, people’s enthusiasm is going to wane over time, and others will simply be distracted by the cares of the world. Very few will actually receive the Good News and flourish and thrive. And yet Jesus seems to be saying, “Sew the seeds of the Good News with abandon anyway.”

Jesus’ advice to the disciples goes against any sound business practices. I have been a part of many dioceses who do church planting, and in every case they spend years examining the numbers and making plans. They look for areas of new population growth, where young families are moving in or are already present, where Episcopal Churches have not yet been built, and where there are many who are unchurched. They develop carefully constructed publicity campaigns and gimmicks to spread the news about the newly forming church. Billboards, paper ads, new websites, and promotional events are planned. Nothing about church planting today is like what Jesus is talking about in this parable. In fact, many of you have had similar feelings about church growth here in Plainview. Many of you have expressed the sentiment that church growth in Plainview is pretty much a waste since our community has such a large Jewish population. And of those neighbors who aren’t Jewish, the rest are Catholic. So instead of throwing our precious evangelism budget away in our neighborhood, many have encouraged me to either figure out different neighborhoods or to target other towns altogether.

So what is Jesus really suggesting and why do we not seem to want to listen? On Memorial Day weekend, about twenty parishioners walked in the Plainview Memorial Day Parade, promoting St. Margaret’s. Two faithful parishioners dressed up as garden vegetables to help us advertise the work of our Garden of Eatin’. As we walked along, we handed out seed packets and small brochures about St. Margaret’s. Before the parade began, I remember wondering whether anyone would want our handouts. I know people love to catch candy and other trinkets, but I could not imagine anyone actually being interested in what we had to offer. I made a point to watch to see if my theory was right. As I expected, a few people said “No, thank you,” when offered our handout. However, I was almost shocked when I noticed that several people gladly took our handouts – in fact one woman specifically asked if she could have one.

What I, and probably many of us, would judge as rocky or thorny soil, actually turned out to be good soil. That is what Jesus is hoping to get the disciples and us to see. We can never know what different soils will do. When we share the Good News, we have no way of knowing what kind of soil we are sowing seeds into. In fact, I would be willing to guess that many times we often judge soil incorrectly. And since we are probably not the best soil experts, Jesus instead tells us to sow with abandon – to throw our good news all over the place because you never know when a hand might extend toward us, wanting some of the good news we have to share. That is a part of the fun!

For years I have suspected that Farmer Frank never repaired Bessie on purpose. I think he enjoyed the mystery of where the tractor’s seeds would germinate and grow. He liked sharing the abundance of that crazy tractor. He liked teaching his children about volunteer plants and the importance of sharing God’s blessings. And he especially enjoyed spying his neighbors who would stop along the road and pick some extra squash or tomatoes, because they knew Frank and Bessie would not mind. Bessie made all of that possible, and to repair her would have been to take some of the joy and blessing out of life.

This is the invitation of Jesus to us today: to be like an erratic, haphazard, wasteful sower of good news. Yes, you might be known as that crazy lady or guy who talks about God too much. And, yes, your words might fall on deaf ears or be forgotten tomorrow. But occasionally, your words will be just the words that someone needed to hear that day. Your reckless sharing of your blessed experiences with God might just be the food someone was longing for. In time, you may just find that being a crazy sower of good news is kind of fun, and brings you as much fruit as it brings others. Amen.

I grew up in the South, which means I have a particular perspective about the experience of snow. When snow was in the forecast, even a little dusting, schools were usually closed, people stayed off the road, and the grocery store shelves were bare. We did not have the kind of equipment needed for snow removal, so when it snowed, you stayed home. So, when we first moved to Delaware and there was snow in the forecast, I asked my boss whether the office be closed. My boss looked at me like I had three heads, and very slowly explained to me (as though I were mentally incompetent) that we would come into work because the roads would be cleared. I was both reassured by the fact that the roads would be cleared and panicked because I knew how scared I am of driving in the snow.

Eight-plus years of life in Delaware and now two years of life in New York have toughened me up a little, but I still have a healthy fear and dread of snow, in particular for the necessity of driving in it. The good news is that having a four-year old has reopened for me the joy of snow. When we see snow now, she wants to go run, roll, and play in it. She thinks snowballs are hilarious, is very proud of the snow angels she makes, and is a snow cream connoisseur. She whines about the fact that we haven’t purchased a sled (I know; terrible parent!), and she longs to build a snowman (sadly, this winter’s snows have been accompanied by bitterly cold temperatures, so we have not been able to commit to the time outside needed for snowman-building).

So you can imagine my fascination watching the various responses to snow in the South this past week. The things I fear about snow have certainly shown their ugly side – cars were abandoned, people needed ten-plus hours to get home, children had to be left at school overnight until parents could safely get to them. In general, the whole thing seemed like a disaster, with many people pointing fingers of blame. But at the same time, I have also seen photos of children and adults enjoying a rare joy – sledding in the snow, making snowmen and snow angels, and generally getting wet, cold, and having a blast. The sharp contrast between joy and desperation has been so vivid in my mind that it is almost hard to grasp.

Meanwhile, another phenomenon has arisen. Stories have been emerging of people helping each other out of the snow; friends texting, tweeting, and Facebooking about safe places to stay overnight; and teachers staying with children who were totally unprepared for a sleepover at school. I saw a couple of stories of people who stood by highways, offering sandwiches, cocoa, and cereal to anyone who needed it.

The storm has reminded me of the ways in which God’s creation is both fearfully and wonderfully made. I see both the awful things that can happen, and the beautiful ways that God’s people rise above. I see the joy of life that is ready for those willing to find it. As someone who can be a grouch about the snow and what already feels like an interminable winter, I am grateful for the reminder about the beauty and fun that comes with God’s creation too. It truly is both fearfully and wonderfully made.